


This Time

by chii



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chii/pseuds/chii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time, she'll keep the bad dreams away, for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Time

**Author's Note:**

> I HATE SUMMARIES can you tell I hate summaries, because I dooo. 8( Anyway, old Dollhouse fic I may as well post!

Mellie rolls over, presses her nose into the curve of Paul's throat, and mumbles something, low and soft and sweet, and Paul stares quietly at the wall the entire time, a hand rising mechanically.   
  
He pushes it through her hair, watches strands slide through his fingers, watches the way they slip down and wonders if she'll even remember it. He's not naturally violent-- he has to protect her, wants to keep her safe just as much as he wants to keep Caroline safe, but he wants to do something, wants to make something snap, wants to push things past what they're supposed to be and see if it matters, if she remembers.   
  
Mellie makes another noise, this one softer, shorter, and her hand shifts under the sheet, gripping it tighter, and Paul realizes what he's doing, loosening his hand in her hair.   
  
“Paul?”   
  
“Shh.”   
  
He can't bring himself to apologize right now, even though he knows-- he  knows he should. She didn't chose this. She's just as much of a victim as the others, as  Caroline . She's as innocent as all the others and god knows that there are too many, when it comes down to it. He's only scratching the tip of the iceberg and god knows the further down he digs the closer he's going to get to something that's either going to kill him, or make him unearth something he doesn't really want to.   
_  
What other choice do I have? _   
  
“ Paul ,” Mellie says, a little more insistent, now, leaning up and over him with her hair falling in her face, and over into his, and it aches, it fucking aches, knowing that this isn't Mellie. Mellie doesn't even exist, she's a person made for him, made to fucking order. He's a client of the Dollhouse and he didn't even know it for the longest time, when he  should have . He should have known better, should have planned better, been more careful. “...listen, Paul, I'm not-- I know when something's wrong.”   
  
Mellie sits up ( _she'll touch his hair, next_ ) and touches his hair ( _and her smile makes his stomach twist_ ) smiling quietly at him after a moment of hesitation. Her fingers ease down over his jaw, tracing the line of it, and he knows she's going to kiss him moments before she leans in and does it, sighing against his lips and sliding into his lap.   
  
It's got to be close to four, five AM-- he's not even sure anymore, but it doesn't matter, really-- time doesn't matter to her, not when she's probably programmed not to remember it or anything else, for that matter. Time probably doesn't matter, not in the grand scheme of the Dollhouse and its events.   
  
She's programmed to be just what he needs, though-- he sees that now, knows it after that last message sent. Mellie leans in for another kiss, this time more concerned, running her fingers over his collarbones, smoothing down over his chest.   
  
“I know you-- have a lot going on right now,” Mellie says quietly, still sounding all too loud in the quiet of the room, between soft breaths in and out with the two of them.   
  
( he hates it when she says the right thing every goddamn time )   
  
“But you know you...you can talk to me, right? I might not be a-- well, you know, but I'm here. I...”   
  
She pauses, and Paul has to stop himself from what he's doing, has to stop himself from taking apart every little goddamn word and analyzing what it means, what each inflection, each little pause means. Is the real Mellie like this? Does she act the same, does she sound the same, does she dress the same?  Jesus , he doesn't even know if she has someone back where she's from-- a boyfriend, a lover, a family, a  _ child _ .   
  
_ ( how can people do this?  Hire people and hire them out like this--? ) _   
  
“I just want you to be alright, Paul,” Mellie finishes, tucking her face against his neck, tracing her hand up and down his stomach, and it takes him a moment but he realizes she's easing down not to adjust because she's uncomfortable, but because she's putting her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.   
  
People hire them out, hire these Dolls out, do god knows what and yet here he is, in bed with one of them, after wine and sex and everything else he's so disgusted with a thousand other people for paying for. And here he is, no better.   
  
“...At least say something. I-- always feel kind of silly. Talking to you like this, I mean. I...wouldn't even blame you if you said that I was, because I know I can be but I just thought you should know because you're working hard and you're trying to help people and that girl and I-”   
  
“Mellie.”   
  
( **_not her name not her name not her name_** **_ who is she _ ** )   
  
She brightens, just like that, a little twist of her hips and a squirm against him, her hand sliding up his side as she looks at him, and he forces that same smile back onto his lips.   
  
( you can't let on you know. )   
  
“I just had a bad dream. That's all. S'early, you know? I'm not really a stunning conversationalist at – nngh, four thirty-five. Go back to sleep, don't worry about me.”   
  
For a moment, she looks like she wants to protest ( she has to gather data, right? Has to figure out what he knows and he's keeping it all tucked in close ) but she just nods, smiling that quiet, warm little smile that made his stomach twist in knots and butterflies before and now just makes his heart ache more fiercely than he thinks he can deal with.   
  
“Okay. Just promise me you'll go back to sleep, too, okay? Even you have to sleep. You'll find her and figure things out better when you've – oh.”   
  
It's wrong – so goddamn wrong, kissing her like this, feeling the way she melts, listening to the little hitch in breath and the way she curls closer, shivering, going quiet as he ends it and stretches back out, this time rolling into his side, not sure he can take looking at her.   
  
“I'll make you a deal.”   
  
“Yeah? What's that?”   
  
He expects it to be about breakfast, but he doesn't need that. She's meant to give him what he needs.   
  
Mellie eases up behind him, and tucks herself close against him, kissing the nape of his neck, and running a hand over his side, over his stomach, spooning him the same way he'd done to her a million times, putting herself to the door first, holding his hand. The idea behind it is obvious, and he just stares harder at the wall for a moment, gritting his teeth.   
  
“I'll keep the bad dreams away. Okay?”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
What else can he say, really?   
  
It's a smart move, really-- he's not so blind, not unable to see that. You give the one man after you the very thing he's looking for, wrapped up so tightly that he can't use it. He wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't do anything to try and force it out of her, wouldn't try to break her and find out what's going on in her head.   
  
He's a safe bet just as much as she is-- all he can do is hope that it won't get him killed and make Caroline and Mellie-- whoever she is-- suffer more than they have already.   
  
Mellie hums quietly against him, arm tight around his waist, fingers spread over it, and falls asleep again within moments, back to the door.


End file.
